Now just in case I get a barrowload of complaints and tuts from my legion of female readers following my last posting, I thought I’d show that I’m not 100% porcine and do have a caring sensitive side too. You see for the last 15 months we have been looking after the youngest of our 3 fab grandsons, much-loved E, rather than him go to nursery. He was just 7 months old when he started spending Mon-Fri with us. It has been great fun, tiring at times, but we’ve loved every minute. And now he’s a couple of weeks away from having a little brother as our lovely daughter S starts her maternity leave. So he’s back with mum now full-time (and dad of course post work) and they’re going to have a ball.
It used to be when policeman start to look young or when you realise that you’re older than the PM. Well for me those milestone days are long gone. Jeez there can’t be a single member of the Cabinet who’s more aged than me, well except for Vince Cable. Though he looks 10 years younger than me. Anyway I know I must be getting old because today our youngest daughter, the baby in our family, the beautiful S is 30 years of age. 30!!! It shouldn’t be true but it is. Ah well. We’re hosting all the family for a barbie in our tiny Teddington garden later this afternoon then on Saturday S’s having a rare old bash at some trendy venue in Hoxton/Shoreditch way, organised with sister E. It should be a blast and more than a little poignant for C and I. Our girls are really all grown up now and we’re very, very proud of them.